


Where The Light Won't Find You

by t0bemadeofglass



Category: Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aliases, F/M, Femdom, Hotel Sex, Oral Sex, PWP, Porn Without Plot, inspired fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 19:02:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2079546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t0bemadeofglass/pseuds/t0bemadeofglass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’d met weeks ago at one of Stark’s extravagant get togethers and from then she’d barely been able to keep away from him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where The Light Won't Find You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Starbooks13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starbooks13/gifts).



> I've been watching a great deal of Masters of Sex with Jessy, and that is deffo where the prompt/inspiration for this fic came from. It's also been written with a mostly different style of writing, so if you can let me know if it worked, or if it didn't? Thanks so much for reading!
> 
> Also! This majorly goes out to Starbooks13, who wanted something akin to a Thortasha fic I've written before, so I hope this makes up for it darling <3 Sorry it's taken me forever to write!

They’d met weeks ago at one of Stark’s extravagant get togethers.  Well, at least that was what the host called them--golden, ego boosting extravaganzas were a more apt name, Natasha thought.  She’d caught Loki’s green gaze from halfway across the room, his suit far more clean cut and well shaped than most the others who’d shown up.  He’d cut an impressive figure stalking towards her to steal her away from the imbecile attempting to chat her up, easily slipping through the crowd of sycophants and upstarts.  She’d checked out of the conversation between herself and the frat boy brat who thought he’d be bringing her to bed long before, so when this far more interesting newcomer took her hand and pressed his lips to the back of it, she was more than eager to ignore whatever it was her previous partner was saying and turn her full intention instead to the newcomer.  

From then she’d barely been able to keep away from him.  Dangerous, to say the least.  He’d held her close as they danced while she made up a lie about why she was there (to keep an eye on Stark should Fury find him useful, but no one else needed to know.)  The glint in her new companion’s eye told her he didn’t quite believe it, yet whatever reservations he might’ve had were kept quiet.  She was grateful, surprised even, especially when he’d brought her back to one of the nearest bedrooms and laid her out on the lavish bed, hiking her skirts up to snake his hands, mouth, and cock into her.  

The next time they saw one another he was decked out in green, golden armor, and a  black leather trench while Natasha’s second-skin cat suit kept her as protected as possible.  Once more their eyes met, across half a dozen enormous frost giants this time, and his lips quirked upwards in a knowing smirk, one that promised he was thinking about the way he’d laid her out and made a meal of her the first time, the same as she.  As his eyes undressed her she discharged her stings the instant she got close enough.  He flicked them out of the way, the Jotuns keeping her other teammates more than occupied.  He threw a beam of blue energy her way, spiking far off her left shoulder.  Intentionally.  She wasn’t so considerate, flinging another Bite in his direction, trying to aim for the torso where she saw a chink in his armor.  While he was distracted avoiding the attack she kicked her shins out at him, and though his scepter caught the stings she got the back of his legs, sending him to his knees.  He hit hard, yet the butt of his scepter caught her on the back, and the strength of it bowled her over.  She discharged her gauntlets as he reached out to her, the shock making his body go rigid and when he fell to the ground she clambered atop him, bites pointed at his throat.  

She’d hardly blinked before she found herself straddling him atop a bed, the man beneath her trapping her arms above his head, forcing her down onto his level.  She snarled and struggled to break free from his grip, her thighs tightening to try and gain some semblance of control on the situation.  She knew he’d had magic, but she hadn’t thought he’d be idiotic enough to use it such as this.  

“The hell do you think you’re doing?”  She demanded, snarling as his grip tightened further, bones rubbing hard against one another that she was petrified they’d break if his grip tightened any further.  She took that as her cue to calm down, stop struggling.  She breathed deeply, reevaluating, watching his pupils dilate and his own breath catch in his throat as his attention turned to the curve of her throat, the way her breasts heaved just beneath her suit.  Pressed so close to him it was impossible not to feel how it affected him, and so she went very still.  His head surged forward, capturing her lips in a brutal kiss, and when Nat bit his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood he laughed, tongue flicking out from between his teeth to taste it.  

“Oh we’ve been here before, Natalie,” he hummed in her ear, licking a long stripe up her throat.  She wished she didn’t shudder beneath his attentions.  Between them their clothing vanished, and with a clever finagling of his hips he sank into her.  She hated the moan that worked its way through her lips, how her body responded, hips bucking into his.  Her body grew warm atop his, and it wasn’t long before she was riding him in earnest, hands bracketing his face as his own moved to grip her tight by the hips and help her raise and lower herself off his cock.  After all, she tried arguing with herself, the sooner they finished up the sooner she could make it back to the other Avengers.  One of her hands had already turned off her mic in the comm so they couldn’t hear what was happening.  The very last thing she needed was them to find her so compromised.  

Or that even after that interlude, wild and adrenaline filled as it was, they began to make a habit of it, meeting bi-weekly in the same damn hotel room as though it was some predestined business get meeting.  It was addictive, she had to admit, the magnetism and passion between them stealing her thoughts and hijacking her hormones until she couldn’t see straight.  It was getting bad, yet time after time she met him all the same.  They left their names at the door.  She was no longer Natasha the spy any more than he was Loki the god, not in that room.  All that mattered were his hot gasps against her throat as he drove into her again and again, her nails digging so deep into his skin it was a miracle she didn’t make him bleed.  Well, she hadn’t yet at least.  

Those who manned the reception desk called her Mrs. Calder, a figment of Loki’s imagination (though she’d never told him her true name.  That was too great a risk).  The alias would make the facade believable without being over the top, Loki had insisted, as though Natasha wasn’t intimately familiar with the positives of an alias.  Admittedly she enjoyed shedding her skin every so often, ordering room service while lounging around in a plush robe (post-coital, sometimes, if he was feeling particularly voracious that day), relaxing with his body sprawled languidly beside her.  His nose would bury itself in a book as she’d content herself to her own thoughts and the predictable, ridiculous television shows that filled the silence between their bouts of passion.  The laughter that sometimes bubbled from her lips would take her even more by surprise, light-hearted and easy coming as it was.  Far more so than near everything else in her life.  

On the other days she found him to be impatient, and there would be little rest for her the moment he stepped through the door, throwing his glamored jacket to the side before pouncing on her.  She found that, shoved up against the wall with her legs wrapped tight around his shoulders, his tongue flat against her overly sensitive clit, she didn’t have the heart to complain.  He’d bring her to the edge over and over again, letting her climaxes build as carefully as though he were constructing a tower.  Her mind soared, body tense and lungs burning as she struggled to find enough breath to keep herself alive, and when he did finally let her come, buried so deep inside her it would be a miracle if they ever got him out again, she’d wrap herself all the tighter around him and milk him for every last drop he had, pulling him to climax with her.  His hands would fist in her hair and he’d sink his teeth into her throat, growling “ _Mine, mine,_ ” into her skin until she was certain there would be a tattoo etched into her very soul.  

For as much as he liked to make play that she belonged him she made sure to stake the same claim.  More than once she’d take her place atop him and exact the same, sweet torture he so willingly inflicted on her, her hips swiveling, taking great pleasure in watching his brow crease and his lips widen as he gasped her name, begging her for release with the sincerity of a sinner asking for forgiveness.  He made her feel alive, powerful, more than she’d ever felt in her life, as if the sex wasn’t a good enough reason to stay.  She’d had men at her feet before, men offering her jewels, wealth beyond compare, land, and any matter of material possessions she could think to demand.  

But this?  She’d seen what he could do with his little finger (felt it on more than one occasion, too), had seen him level entire towns as he waited for her to respond (and they’d had a talk about that, Nat having demanded that the next time he threw a fit he ensured the citizens had left.  She didn’t need more red filling her ledger.)  Yet there he was, prone and flushed beneath her, begging _her_ for the favor of release.  

Natasha found she liked to be begged very much, liked to deny him what he craved until she was certain he’d combust beneath her, knowing all too well that the next time they met he’d pay her back in kind.  Her skin would rise, goosebumps and the images of what he could do, what heights he could bring her to, taking her breath away, and would force herself to gain focus once more before starting in again.  Anticipation, as she’d told Loki time and time again, made the pleasure all the more worth it.  

 

 


End file.
